Long Days and Busy Nights
by NerdyxFlavoredxAwesome
Summary: A short fic about what Howard was up to during the Cap America film.  Features Maria Stark 'cause she doesn't get enough fan love!
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** I do not own_ Captain America_ or characters thereof.

**Chapter 1: In which Howard faces deadlines and textile production.**

"…I said it _shouldn't_ have side effects, not that it didn't. Hello…hello?" Howard was talking to a dead line. The inventor sighed before dropping the phone back onto the hook. He walked back to his steel blue switchboard and flopped into his chair with enough momentum that he spun a few times before coming to rest. The lights on the switchboard blinked, but Howard was not in the mood to keep working. He twisted off a sequence of switches and pulled down the blue lever. _Ah, the blue lever._ Usually when people questioned the amounts of shiny lights or switches on his switchboard Howard would explain to them why this switch was shaped like it was or why that light blinked green and why all these details were of vital importance. In the case of the blue lever however, Howard could have easily made a simple, inconspicuous switch; but really, when your switchboard could turn a ninety-pound man into Hercules it's not like you're being overly dramatic by adding a blue lever. He liked his useless blue lever. Yet today, not even his lever could elicit any positive emotion from him and he decided to go back to his workspace.

Calling his space an office would be a bit of a stretch even by Howard's standards. Literally speaking it was a tiny desk with a lamp and two metal tables pushed together in the corner of a busy basement with no windows and a severe lack of estrogen. He was lucky enough to have a desk with drawers. He eyed Richards' desk, it too was covered in a storm of paper. However, unlike Howard's, Nathaniel Richards' desk did not have drawers—a small consolation, but a consolation nonetheless. Still, Howard couldn't help but think of his home office, or his office at Stark Industries. Then again, working with the government did have its perks. He had dental now. Ladies dug dental.

Though if Howard was honest with himself, he couldn't quite decide what his feelings were about women. On the one hand, he found them neurotic and unpredictable though on the other, they did bring something to the table that men couldn't and this intrigued him endlessly—that and Howard wasn't too fond of cuddling men. It wasn't that he didn't _like_ women or had difficulties finding them—Howard could find ladies like a Lassie found Timmy—but finding a woman that intrigued him for more than a few hours was another matter entirely and there were several nights that he went to sleep dreaming of a female version of himself to lay next to.

For whatever reason today had felt more taxing than most days and when Howard reached his double-table he had a strong desire to punch out his card and head home. Instead, he turned on his stool and stretched to reach into the top drawer of his desk. He pulled out his flask and held it for a moment, staring at its faux wood surface. Without opening it, he dropped it back into the drawer and slid it closed. There was something about the place that amplified Howard's less-than-savory traits.

He took a deep breath and turned to the stack of schematics for the shield he was supposed to be making. Scattered over his tables were the various projects he had to finish this week. In blue pen were the plans for the new radio system; in red were thoughts on a deadlier assortment of explosives; on brown paper was the design for the new binoculars and, leaving the biggest trail of paper and undoubtedly, the icing on the cake, the new Captain America suit. Howard groaned and plopped his forehead on a stack of fabric swatches. The amount of work he had was bordering on frustrating and he would have liked nothing more than to go back to his office at Stark Industries and work out the kinks of his hover car. But he was a Stark, Howard Walter Stark, to be specific and if his parents had ever taught him anything it was that quitting was equivalent to failure and the Starks did not fail—especially not Howard. He paused for another moment, leaning into the swatches as he thought. _Think of the funding._

Howard didn't believe in squandering opportunities and everything he had, he'd worked tooth and nail for. Howard Stark was a man that took what life gave him and rolled with it. He was an inventor, a scientist. He pulled the stack of Cap' uniform sketches closer to him and thumbed through them until he found the copy that he'd been most at peace with. After sifting through several layers of loose paper he found his special pad of yellow, lined paper. Howard took a worn black pencil from his shirt pocket and began to sketch. He would sketch furiously, then stop, lean back, contemplate, bite the end of his pencil and return to sketching again.

"He needs a helmet…" Howard muttered scribbling away. _What about…_ He sketched a pilot's helmet but in place of goggles, the helmet simply covered more of the face and had eye holes chiseled into it. "I'm brilliant," he said with a grin and slipped the pencil behind his ear. He wiggled his fingers a bit shaking off his sketching induced cramp. He was happy with his breakthrough, but his fingers itched for invention—science, creation. Clothing design was all fine and dandy, but it didn't give him the same high as solving a problem with a new gadget or taking something apart and reassembling it into something totally different. Howard yearned to be elbow deep in chalk, covering black boards in conceptual sketches and measurements. In his fantasies 'Stark Industries' was a household name and he had single handedly created a whole new way of life. He sketched as he drifted through these thoughts. He would need to use what he was given, what was available…_What if he wove nylon for the Cap' suit_…

"Mr. Stark," said the blonde secretary inexplicably standing beside his desk. Howard mentally shook himself to attention.

"Yes?"

"I need your signature to finalized this," she said sliding a stack of documents clipped to a clipboard in front of him.

"Right." Howard looked down at the clipboard and rubbed the bridge of his nose. He decided almost instantly that he wouldn't be bothered to read through the entire stack of governmental nonsense. "And what exactly am I signing?"

"We need your signature to finalize the decision to harvest vibranium."

"Sir," Howard said rummaging through the disarray of his desk and finally fumbling through his jar of pens until his fingers found a plain silver pen.

"Sir?" she asked, confused until she realized she hadn't addressed him properly—she was more than slightly put off by the realization. Howard signed his consent swiftly and with surprising grace. He slid the document back across his desk with a warm smile. The blonde scowled and Howard watched her walk away, shoes clacking as she went. He tapped his fingers along his desk. _Back to work then. _

Several hours passed before Howard had a solid foundational design for a functional, practical, and flattering Captain America's suit.

"Mr. Stark?" _Ah and she returns. _He smiled.

"Yes ma'am?"

"The higher ups are requesting to know the time you intend to do your weapons demonstration tomorrow, sir." 'Weapons demonstration' he thought. _What weapons demonstration? _He twisted the end of his mustache. …_Oh! Dammit. _

"Mr. Stark?"

"Are you sure they want to see the demonstration tomorrow?" he said knowing, without the slightest doubt that they did.

"Yes, sir," answered the blonde secretary with a bored expression.

"Could you just…double check please," Howard said, with a smile that was slightly too wide. The secretary, though visibly displeased, nodded and walked back to her desk to double check. As soon as she was out of view, Howard rummaged through papers like a tornado. He had definitely begun to brainstorm ideas for new grenades, but where did he put that piece of paper? He could hear the vague clacking of her shoes approach him from a distance. _Shit. Shit! _Howard had two choices; wait at his desk and then tell his secretary that he didn't have weapons to present or… oh who was he kidding. He grabbed his flask from the drawer of his desk, snatched up his coat from the back of his desk chair, and raced to the exit opposite the clacking.

"Mr. Stark?" said the secretary baffled by the empty desk, but Howard was already in his coat, flask at his lips and well passed security clearance.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2: In which yesterday lives on forever**

Howard woke up before dawn in the booth seat of a bar, his cheek covered in brandy-scented spittle. Empty glasses and paper napkins with angry pen scribbles crowded him from both sides. A half-full martini glass twinkled from across the booth table. _Strange._ Howard didn't particularly care for martinis. The base of the glass was floating in a sea of dark brunette curls that were attached to—what Howard could only assume was a very attractive woman. He pulled the olive from her drink and ate it, looking down at his watch. It was 12:47am. _That was breakfast then._ He finished the woman's martini, collected his napkins and was just about to lay down a tip when the curls started to move.

He looked at the nameless woman with brown-black curls and faded red lipstick sleeping innocently on the other side of his table. Half of his mind was wondering who she was, the other half was reminding him that he had a weapons demonstration at some undisclosed time today. Howard knew that he should be fully concerned with his demonstration and yet, this woman probably had some place to be and things to worry about as well. The inventor gently nudged the woman until she awoke.

"Hello there."

"Where…?"

"Moon's Grin Bar. I'm Howard St-"

"-Stark," finished the woman for him. She rubbed her eyes and adjusted the pins in her hair. "We met yesterday…over drinks," she said. Howard looked down at the array of glasses on the table. It seemed they had several drinks, or—more likely—he had several drinks, because he didn't have a clear recollection of what happened while the woman didn't seem fazed in the least. Her hands made a move for the martini glass in front of her until she realized it was empty.

"Funny I don't remember finishing that," she said giving Howard a lopsided smile. Her teeth were straight and pearl white. Fragments of last night's on goings flitted through his mind. He remembered that this woman was smart, and that she could weld. Howard gave an embarrassed smile. _What was her name?_

"I thought you didn't like martinis," she said.

"I'm sorry but what was your name?"

The woman laughed brightly. "That's classy," she continued to laugh, "good luck with your project Mr. Stark, it was nice to meet you." She pulled a navy blue hat off her seat and stood up. Howard sat in quiet amazement, who _was_ this woman? "We can go halves on the tip," she said leaving money on the table. Howard watched her hips as she walked away. Right before the door swung shut, he glimpsed her looking back at him. Howard winked and caught her smiling as the door closed. He straightened his tie, paid the other half of the tip and hailed a cab.

"You're aware that this is a _demonstration_, right?"

"I am sir, but I'm sure we'd all rather I presented some unfinished weapons than potentially kill us," Howard responded with an easy smile. His comment drew a few chuckles for which he was inwardly thankful.

After his escapades at the bar Howard had locked himself in his office in the small brick building that was Stark Industries and worked furiously on finishing his weapons designs. He always kept copies of all his designs at his private desk so it all that was left was to dig them out and finish them. Even still, Howard knew there was no way that he would have enough time to put together five new weapons, that functioned properly and looked presentable, he therefore turned the majority of his attention to selling the presentation. He'd learned early on that half his success depended on how well he was able to present himself and his ideas. In any case, there were plenty of engineers that could put together the actual weapons from his plans later. After a few hours Howard had a presentation and rewarded himself with sleep, if only 3 hours. In the morning he took a long shower, the steam reminding him of his hover car. He put on a clean blue-white shirt with a red tie, his brown pants and suspenders and his favorite shoes. He also made sure to comb his hair and trim his mustache._ Oh I clean up nicely. _He winked at himself before heading to work.

"Let's just hope they are really that deadly, Mr. Stark," said the same faceless government agent. He was obviously higher on the food chain than Howard.

"Sir, I promise you that these weapons will bring in a new era of war arms." Howard felt the bubble of annoyance somewhere in his mind, but it was covered in a haze of sleep deprivation and hunger.

After the presentation Howard folded up his schematics and napped at his desk for a few moments. On waking he was greeted with a giant stack of papers, most likely courtesy of his secretary. Today the prototypes he commissioned for Steve's new shield were supposed to come in—he just needed to do something until they were on his desk. Howard sat at his stool and a flipped through his yellow pad of paper until he found a blank sheet. He started to touch up the intricacies of Steve's suit when his stomach gurgled. The wall clock read 3:15pm, not counting the copious amounts of coffee, the Twinkie, and the toast he'd eaten for breakfast; Howard hadn't had any real form of sustenance in several hours. He was running on adrenaline. _Maybe I'll just get something to eat. _The moment the thought finished forming in the inventor's mind the blonde secretary stood before his tables with an irked expression hanging on her brow.

"You're shields Mr. Stark," she hissed dropping the shields on Howard's tables with a clang. The inventor sighed. "Sir, may I make a tiny request? The next time you decide to head home before you finished your work, could you deal with the repercussions?"

"Done. Can I make a tiny request? I'm pretty hungry. Could you find me a sandwich?" His thoughts did not make it out of his mouth as elegantly as he'd hoped. The blonde's eyes flashed and the next moment Howard felt both fully awake and a pins and needles tingle in his cheek. The secretary's stompy heels clacked away furiously and Howard had no delusions of her returning with sandwiches. Yesterday seemed like a never-ending problem, no matter how much of himself he devoted to it, no matter how much brainpower he pumped it with it would not go away. He grabbed his hat and coat and headed out in search of a meal. In town, Howard couldn't help but think about the woman he'd met. _What was her name? _He walked to his favorite sandwich shop and managed to scarf down not one but three meatball subs before heading back to work. Though he had a variety of more important things to think about, all his sleep-deprived brain could do was scan for the name, her name. Another watch check confirmed that he needed to meet his assistant in the lab to complete their fourth day of inspection on the tesseract piece that Steve brought in. _Speaking of the kid. _He had a shield display to do for Steve later today. Howard walked back to work noticing a navy blue hat as he passed a corner.

"Couldn't be," he thought rubbing his eyes.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3: In which things explode and Steve gets shot at**

From behind a thick pane of glass, Howard prodded at the glowing blue orb with one of his slender mechanical arms.

"Emission signature is unusual," he said to his assistant. "the alpha-beta ray…neutral, I doubt Rogers picked up on that." He leaned into the glass for a second before straightening up. "Seems harmless enough, hard to see what all the fuss is about," Howard commented as he touched the second of his mechanical claws to the orb causing it shoot out a pulse of energy that shattered his observation window and send him flying 15 feet into a wall. The shock had stunned both him and his assistant for a moment.

"Write that down!" Howard said breathlessly. He was lying on the floor and his ears were humming. A warm, sticky trickle of blood was dripping down the right side of his face. "I think we're done here," groaned Howard getting to his feet slowly. _If this isn't a sign to go home nothing is. _He cautiously shook the glass off his clothes before bending down to help his assistant up. The man seemed shocked, but largely unharmed—he was standing further to the right of the observation window and thus missed the brunt of glass shards as they launched out.

"You're bleeding, Mr. Stark," the thin man said with a wavering voice.

"I'm working on it," Howard responded, "see if you can get someone to clean this up will you, Malory?"

"Yes sir."

With that, Howard found his way to a nurse. Thankfully, this was a military operation and the nurse didn't coddle him with a full check up. She simply cleaned his cuts with rubbing alcohol, asked if he wanted them bandaged—which he didn't—and sent him on his merry way. When he returned to his desk he had just enough time to arrange the shields before Agent Carter asked if he was ready to see Steve. He followed a few steps behind the brunette as she walked to bring Steve in and unintentionally caught wisps of the their conversation.

"Well how do I know you and Howard aren't…._fondueing_?" Steve said much too loudly. Agent Carter rolled her eyes and briskly walked off.

"Fondue is just cheese and bread my friend," Howard said when he caught up with the newly muscular blonde.

"Really? I didn't think…," started Steve, growing pink in the face.

"Nor should you pal," said Howard leading Steve to his corner. "The moment you think you know what's going on in a woman's head is the moment your goose is well and truly cooked. Me, I concentrate on work, which at the moment is about making sure that you can your men don't get killed." Howard was more than ready to get this shield display over with—it was the last thing that stood between him and going home. "Carbon polymer, should withstand your average German bayonette although, Hydra's not going to attack you with a pocketknife," said Howard patting a bolt of the fabric as the two men neared the shields. "I hear you're ah, kinda attached," he said patting Steve's childishly symbolic Captain America shield.

"It's handier than you'd think," Steve responded.

_I bet. _"I took the liberty of coming up with some options. This one's fun, she's being fitted with electrical relays that'll allow you to-"

"What about this one," said Steve pointing to the large unfinished vibranium disk under Howard's table.

"No, no that one's just a prototype." _And just barely a prototype at that._

"What's it made of," asked Steve already pulling the shield out from under the table.

"Vibranium, it's stronger than steal and a third of the weight. It's completely vibration absorbent."

"How come it's not standard issue?"

"That's the rarest metal on earth. What you're holding there…that's all we've got." It was abundantly clear that Steve's heart was set on the vibranium shield. Howard sighed; at least he didn't have to finish wiring the electrical relays on the other shield. Steve's mouth opened to further learn about the shield when his fondue friend, Agent Carter, returned.

"Are you quite finished Mr. Stark? I'm sure the Captain has some unfinished business," Agent Carter snapped. Howard turned to Steve with a questioning expression.

"What do you think?" Steve asked her holding up the shield proudly, completely oblivious to both Howard's look and Agent Carter's tone. Wordlessly the brunette picked up a gun from a surrounding table, cocked it and without even the slightest warning shot three bullets at the shield in Steve's hand. Howard covered his face and ducked beside his table. _Had that women completely lost her mind?_

"Yes, I think it works," Carter said smiling devilishly. As she walked passed Steve he flinched and by the time she was gone, both Steve and Howard stood slack-jawed and staring after her.

"I had some ideas about the uniform," Steve said handing Howard a small piece of lined paper, still staring unblinkingly.

"Whatever you want, pal," answered Howard dazedly accepting the sheet. _I'm done. I'm going home. _


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4: In which Howard finally gets some sleep.**

Somewhere along the line, 'home' and 'Moon's Grin bar' became synonymous, Howard wasn't sure when exactly.

"I'll have the scotch—neat," said Howard taking removing his hat. As the drink slid in front of him Howard knew that he should plan on another cab because there was no way that the this drink was going to be his last. In the last few hours, Howard had been slapped, thrown into a wall and shot at, and something about the smooth burning of alcohol eased him. After one glass of scotch and x amounts of beer, Howard was ready to call it quits. Some part of him made him stay at the bar for a while longer, perhaps in hopes of seeing that women again. Howard's vision was starting to blur, but whether that was an effect of the alcohol or his severe lack of sleep, he couldn't be sure. He was dreaming of black curls when he realized that he was nodding off. _Her name was Maria Collins Carbonell. _Howard smiled despite himself as he remembered. Deciding it was time to head home Howard paid for his drinks and walked outside to find a taxi. _Unbeleivable. _ He tipped his hat at the black haired woman across the street and she smiled brightly. Howard couldn't help but chuckle as she walked over.

"Good evening, Mr. Stark," she said.

"Evening, Miss Carbonell, we meet again."

"So you remembered my name," she teased, her chocolate brown eyes twinkling. Howard took the opportunity to make a full inventory of her face: she had shining eyes, pearly teeth, perfect lips and a wholly sculptural face.

"Well, angels only go by a couple of names," Howard smirked.

Maria laughed. "In that case I'd prefer Maria," she said.

"What a coincidence so would I. My friends call me Howard," said the inventor. "So what brings you out so late two nights in a row, Maria?"

"Work," she laughed shaking her head and the scent of her delicate perfume in Howard's direction.

"You're preachin' to the choir. Care to tell me about it," Howard asked and Maria responded with an inquisitive look. Howard simply offered his arm. She stood speechlessly weighting her choices before taking his arm with a smile.

"Assure me that you have only the purest intentions, Mr. Stark," she smiled coquettishly.

"I told you to call me Howard," he said with a mischievous smile. Maria laughed as they walked down the street. A taxi sped passed them and with it Howard's desire for sleep. There was no denying that he felt tired, or even a bit tipsy, but for some reason with Maria on his arm these things seemed mattered a lot less. He didn't know when this day would end or where it would leave him but he was fairly certain that he'd enjoy it.

FIN~


End file.
